Someone You Know

Tess scowled.

‘You can stay here listening to your records if you like. I’ll solve it on my own.’

Despite Edie’s sneer about Poirot, she’d always wanted to be a detective, though she fancied herself more like an American private investigator with a gun and a fast car. She knew it was silly and childish, but they had little else to do. Since turning eleven, Raquel considered herself a grown up and was spending most of her time at Roswell Park, hanging out with older kids. She even had a boyfriend, who was thirteen. ‘I know what he wants but he’s not getting it.’ Mum was working the whole time. Uncle Ray was ‘snowed under’ with the business and hadn’t been to see them for ages. And Dad was just Dad, as likely to leave the sofa as he was to fly. Being an investigator might be fun.

‘OK, but we’ll have to keep it from Mum,’ Edie said.

‘We’ll go undercover,’ Tess said. ‘Starting tomorrow.’

Chapter 11

Tess: June 2018

Phone calls, knocks at the door and calls through the letterbox. Flash bulbs firing, a TV camera crew outside. The day’s grace we’ve been granted by the press is up. Now, we’re under siege. Would we like to get our story out there, let the public know the real Edie, quash rumours that the family were involved, she ran off with an older man, was mixed up in drugs. The first time round I was spared this by being packed off to stay with Aunt Lola in London, while Dad had to cope with the intrusions and insinuations.

DS Craven, I can’t think of him as Tony, tries to deal with them. Dad looks grey, ill and so thin he could disappear into his armchair, where he sits smoking, tapping, missing the ashtray and finally crushing the butt before reaching for another cigarette. We can’t open the windows to lift the fug for fear of being filmed. Not by the journalists but the thrill seekers, real crime enthusiasts, men obsessed with teenage girls and their deaths. Craven says it’s normal.

‘How the hell is that normal?’ Dad says.

The whisky’s finished and I’ve started on the cooking sherry. I don’t know what normal is any more, either. It’s still light but I’ve no idea what time it is. Edie’s scrawled note on the newspaper clipping, ‘suicide’, plays on my mind. I can’t see how it’s linked to her murder and yet I can’t shake the feeling that it is. I don’t want to cause Dad any more pain right now by asking him. If Edie didn’t speak to me about it, did she tell her friends, did she tell Michaela? Would she really speak to them before me?

I must have fallen asleep, because I wake up with the sherry still in my hand, calling for Edie.

Voices are coming from the kitchen. I go in to find Max standing next to Dad, who looks apologetic, a cigarette smouldering in his hand. Max is blinking rapidly. He hates smoke.

‘You wouldn’t answer your phone,’ Max says before I can speak.

Dad looks at us.

‘I’ll go to the lounge,’ he says.

‘No need, Vince,’ Max says. ‘We can go into the garden.’

He leaves by the side door. I turn to Dad.

‘You shouldn’t have let him in. You know he finished with me.’

‘I couldn’t just leave him sitting on the step, could I?’ Dad says.

‘Why not?’ I say.

‘There’s a photographer still out there.’

I sigh, take a cigarette and follow Max. When I reach him, he stares at the cigarette and looks as if he’s going to object, then decides against it.

‘Why haven’t you been answering my calls? I had to find out from Vince that it was Edie, that’s she’s dead.’ He stops. Pain flashes across his face. ‘That she was murdered. One phone call, one, that’s all it would have taken.’

‘Do you know what it’s been like here? Police, press, I don’t even know what day of the week it is. You’ve absolutely no idea.’

‘Because you’ve not been speaking to me,’ he yells. ‘I’ve had to keep ringing Cassie.’

I check the kitchen door and hope Dad can’t hear.

‘I can’t deal with this right now, Max.’

He takes a deep breath.

‘Look, I didn’t come to argue,’ he says. ‘I came here because I’m worried about you. You shouldn’t go through this on your own.’

‘I’ve got Dad.’

‘How is he?’

I shrug. In truth, I am on my own.

‘He looks ill. Have the police interviewed him again?’

‘Not yet.’

‘What about you?’ Max asks.

‘Not properly. I have to go in sometime, go over my original statement.’

Max shifts his weight to his other foot.

‘I’ve got to speak to them tomorrow.’

‘You?’

‘They’re talking to everyone from Joseph Amberley who knew Edie, the boys’ and the girls’ schools. I’m only going to tell them what I told them before, that I knew her from the odd party. It’s just, you know…’ He shifts his weight again. ‘Going out with you, they might make a big deal about it.’

‘Why would they?’

‘I don’t know. But make sure they don’t twist it, to make our relationship seem odd. And tell them I had no reason to harm Edie. And me seeing you, it was just a chance meeting. I mean, it’s the truth.’

It’s the truth, the sort of expression people use when they’re lying, along with honestly and swear on my mother’s life, which wouldn’t count for much with Max, given that he hates his mother. I’ve never thought of our relationship as odd, imbalanced and dysfunctional, but not odd. I like that Max remembers Edie and understands when I say, ‘Edie would like this’, ‘Edie would hate that’. It’s always been something positive and held us together. Why would it be odd and why did Max just tell a lie, which I’m sure he did?

I think of another woman’s scent, lingering in his hair the night before I left.

‘Who’s the girl you’re seeing?’ I ask.

‘What are you talking about?’

‘I smelt her on you, that last night I spent in London.’

‘She’s no one. And you’d just dumped me…’

‘You dumped me,’ I say. ‘You told me it was over.’

‘That’s not true. I still want to be with you.’

‘If I move back here and have seventeen babies.’

‘Two would be fine.’

His face sets into its habitual sulk.

‘Now isn’t the time, Max,’ I say.

‘It’s never the time with you, is it, Tess?’

‘Not when I’ve just found out my sister’s been murdered, no.’

‘Why do you push everyone away? I came here to be with you. I’m upset about Edie because of the pain it’s causing you and you turn it into something else. I don’t know what I can do right for you, Tess, I never have. You think you don’t need anyone, then you end up in a mess and expect me or your dad to sort you out. Well, neither of us are going to be here forever,’ he says and stamps back into the house.

*

‘Do you mind me asking who that was?’ Craven asks when I come back inside. Max has disappeared and Dad must have gone upstairs. ‘We’re supposed to keep tabs on who comes to the house. Just procedure, you understand.’

‘That was Max,’ I say.

‘Max Arnold?’ Craven looks confused. ‘Do you mind me asking what he was doing here?’

‘He came to see me.’

‘Any particular reason?’

The police contacted me through Dad and can’t have noticed that I have the same London address as Max. I think about explaining that we’re not in a relationship, only we sort of are but we’re not together, even though we still live in the same flat, then decide that’s all too complicated. And I’m saved from answering by Dad crashing back into the room, waving a notebook in front of him. Craven takes a moment to recognise it as his.

‘I have to ask for that back,’ he says sternly.

‘Are you interrogating Tess now?’

‘Just asking a few questions. And I do have to insist you hand over my notebook. That’s part of an ongoing investigation.’

‘I’ve told you to leave her alone.’

‘I’m not a child, Dad.’

‘Don’t say anything to him, Tess,’ Dad says.

Craven looks bemused.

‘Don’t you want to know, Mr Piper? If it were one of my daughters who had been murdered—’

‘It’s not one of your daughters though, is it? Tess is my daughter too and I’m not having you lot harassing her. We’ve already had journalists poking around. Don’t you think we’ve been through enough? You say you’re here to help but look what I found …’ Dad holds the notebook at arm’s length and starts to read. ‘V. Piper – detached – two question marks. T. Piper reliable witness – three question marks. Aunt and uncle hostile – exclamation mark.’ He glares at Craven as he throws the book to the floor. ‘Here to help? You’re here to set us up.’

‘I can assure you that’s not the case, Mr Piper. However painful, there has to be an investigation,’ Craven says. ‘And we need to ask questions of everyone involved from that time, including the family, if we’re to get to the truth.’

‘You lot aren’t interested in the truth. I remember from before. How had I coped since my wife died? Wasn’t it awful to be a man on my own? Didn’t I miss having a woman around the place? Did I love my daughter? Did it make me jealous, knowing she’d started getting interested in boys? I knew what they were asking. Making me ashamed to admit I loved my own daughter, twisting it into something dirty and disgusting.’

I had no idea what Dad went through back then. I was shielded and kept safe. I had been a victim, but Dad had been a suspect.

Craven picks the notebook up and starts to speak in a slow, even-toned voice, no doubt some training manual calming technique.

‘As a father myself, I can’t imagine how awful it must have been for you,’ he says.

‘No, you can’t,’ Dad says. ‘No one can ever know.’

‘And we won’t be repeating those mistakes, Mr Piper.’

Dad steps towards Craven.

‘Get out,’ he says. ‘I’ve had enough.’

‘Mr Piper, please.’

‘Out.’

Craven looks to me.

‘Perhaps you could come back another time,’ I whisper.

Dad hears.

‘No, you can’t come another time. You’re just a snoop.’

Craven has already moved to the hall. I follow him and shut the lounge door.

‘I can see your father’s upset, it’s understandable. But we’re not looking to implicate the family. DI Vilas hasn’t ruled out a stranger killing. I think the support we can provide…’

There’s a roar and a crash from the lounge.

‘Yes, but not right now.’

I virtually push Craven through the door and slam it shut, thankful the press have left for the night.

I run through the hall and back to the lounge. The coffee table lies four feet from Dad, the remains of my sherry dripping down the wall opposite, the glass smashed to pieces on the floor.

‘I can’t do this again, Tess. I can’t.’

Dad falls back onto the sofa and puts his head in his hands. I kneel down beside him.

‘We’ll get through this, Dad,’ I say.

‘No Tess, you don’t understand,’ he says. ‘This is never going to end. It’ll never be over.’

Chapter 12

Edie: September 1993

‘I followed him for twenty minutes and he didn’t see me,’ Tess said.

It was late morning. Tess was in disguise, wearing a woolly hat and an old green anorak that Dad used for gardening. The sleeves swallowed up her arms and the hem hung well below her knees.

‘Where did he go?’ Edie asked.

‘Only to the newsagents and the chippie. He turned around a couple of times but he never spotted me.’

Tess was taking her detective duties seriously. The investigation log was an A4-sized notebook, which she’d covered in the same cream with rosebuds wallpaper they’d used for their school textbooks. It was filled with diagrams and notes. She’d drawn a floor plan of the Vickers’ house, a mirror image of their own, with the addition of the small utility room at the back and a sketch of Mrs Vickers with her hair in a chignon.

Edie had to admit the likeness was impressive. Less impressive were Tess’s conclusions. Valentina was definitely dead. It was just a case of finding her body. Possible hiding places: under the floorboards, in the freezer, buried on waste ground, submerged in the canal. On the front of the book, in thick black marker pen, was written: THE CASE OF THE MISSING CAKEMAKER.

‘That’s a really stupid title,’ Edie said.

‘Dr Watson always used titles like that for Holmes’ cases.’

‘That’s made up, Tess. Police cases are called things like operation something or other.’

‘Well, you can call it Operation Cakemaker, if you like, but it’s my book. This afternoon I’m going to go through his bin.’

‘What for?’

‘Clues. He might’ve put Valentina’s clothes in there.’

‘She left three weeks ago.’

‘I know,’ Tess said. ‘I wish I’d thought of it sooner.’

Edie wasn’t sure about spending the afternoon riffling through rotting vegetables. Mum rescued her.

‘Becca’s just rung. She’s invited us over.’

‘But we’ve got plans,’ Tess protested.

‘What plans?’ Mum asked.

‘Nothing,’ Edie said.

‘Good, get your coats. Your dad and Ray’ll come along later.’

*

Auntie Becca called it an Indian summer and insisted they sat outside.

‘It may be the last good weather we get this year.’

Edie thought India was supposed to be hot, she was freezing, the low, bright sun was blinding her and the egg mayonnaise sandwich she was eating had fallen apart, its filling leaking down her arm. Mum was in the deckchair opposite, a cup of tea balanced on her lap. She wore black jeans, a camel-coloured jumper and large sunglasses. She’d been quiet since they arrived and sat rubbing her temples. Auntie Becca, oblivious to the cold, was wearing her usual black trousers and black top. Tess had nabbed Auntie Becca’s discarded sunglasses to copy Mum. Edie wished she had some. She moved one hand over her eyes as a shield. Pepe took his chance to jump up and take a bite out of the remains of her sandwich.

‘No, Pepe, bad dog,’ Auntie Becca said.

She didn’t sound like she meant it.

Pepe ignored her and leapt at Edie again. She moved her arm away, then decided she didn’t want the dog-licked sandwich and threw it to him.

‘Don’t give him that. He’s a delicate digestion. It’ll make him sick,’ Auntie Becca said.

‘Too late,’ Edie said.

The dog swallowed it in one gulp and set off running around the garden. Usually Edie liked animals, but she wasn’t sure about this one, all it did was run in circles, bark and eat. It never seemed to lie down or want stroking. A funny looking thing too, a Welsh terrier, with a tan body and black back. She was surprised Uncle Ray had let Auntie Becca have Pepe, she knew he didn’t like dogs. And it was odd that Auntie Becca, who was so fussy and house-proud, wanted one, a dog meant mess. Then there were all those vases and figurines to knock over.

Pepe hurtled towards the flower bed, growled at a rose bush then ran to the garden gate, put both front paws on top of it and started barking.

‘I don’t think we’ll be staying here long, Gina,’ Auntie Becca said.

‘No?’

Auntie Becca and Uncle Ray were always moving and Mum sounded bored. She was no fun today. Edie hoped Uncle Ray would turn up soon. He’d promised her a tape with new tracks and maybe a single on vinyl from the record fair he’d been to the weekend before.

‘The garden’s too small for Pepe and as for that lot …’

Edie knew what was coming: the neighbours, feckless parents and feral kids.

‘They let those children run wild. And the parents are no better. We thought this was a nice area.’

‘They looked nice enough when I saw them,’ Mum said.

Edie had also been surprised on seeing that the neighbours wore clean clothes and combed their hair. The word feral made her think of cats, she’d expected them to have mange.

‘They may look nice,’ Auntie Becca said.

‘Isn’t he a bank manager?’ Mum said.

‘That means nothing. That boy, I can’t remember his name, kicked a ball right over the fence into my washing. It splattered everything with mud. I had to do it all again. Not one word of apology from his mother, let alone him.’

‘Kids are always making a mess, Becca, and maybe his mother doesn’t know.’

‘How could she not know?’

‘You can’t keep an eye on them all the time.’

‘She should do. That’s how these children turn out so rough, even if their father is a bank manager.’

The way Auntie Becca went on you’d think it had happened for the twentieth time that morning, not once, two weeks ago. And Pepe was worse than any kid, he was still at the gate barking loudly. Uncle Ray had told Edie that Pepe had got out and torn up next door’s roses. When they complained, Auntie Becca said he was just a dog and didn’t mean any harm. Uncle Ray had had to go around and pay for the damage later. It was their secret to laugh about, Edie wasn’t to tell anyone.

‘Yes,’ Auntie Becca said with a nod. ‘Time to start looking elsewhere. Are you alright, Gina? You don’t look well.’

Mum’s head was slumped over her cup.

‘I’m just a little hot.’

‘But it’s freezing,’ Edie said.

‘I’ll go and splash some water on my face.’

She stood up, which drew Pepe back from the gate so he could jump up at her instead. Edie batted him away. He growled back at her.

‘Stay where you are, Edie,’ Mum said. ‘I’ll be fine.’

Pepe continued to circle Mum until Auntie Becca called to him.

‘Gina’s not quite herself, is she?’ Auntie Becca said when Mum was inside.

‘It’s since Mrs Vickers left,’ Tess said.

Edie tried to catch Tess’s eye, to shut her up, but Tess wasn’t looking at her, deliberately, Edie thought.

‘Val Vickers,’ said Auntie Becca. ‘She can’t be much of a loss, if she’s anything like her sister.’

‘She’s always nice to us,’ Edie said.

‘You know Valentina’s sister?’ Tess said at the same time.

Her eyes lit up.

‘I knew her. At school, Lillian Harlith. My God that girl gave herself some airs and graces. You’d think her father was a lord not a trader on the Rag Market. I’m sure some dodgy dealings were going on there. They always had fancy cars, cruises, fur coats. You don’t make that much money selling a few yards of cloth, do you?’

‘And Valentina was at school with you, too?’ Edie asked.

‘No. She’s a few years younger. I couldn’t believe it when she moved in next door to you. I’m sure that’s not what her father had in mind. I’ve no idea what happened there. Rumour had it that her husband was a gambler; it would explain where all the money went. Because I know when their father sold up he gave them a pretty penny. Lillian bought that huge place over by the rose gardens. I don’t know what Valentina did with her money. Whatever it was it didn’t last. A Harlith girl on the Limewoods Estate. I’d never have believed it.’

‘We live on Limewoods,’ Edie said.

‘I know,’ said Auntie Becca. ‘But it’s not forever, is it?’

‘I don’t want to move.’

Auntie Becca screwed up her face.

‘At least our neighbours aren’t feral,’ Edie said.

Auntie Becca turned to her. She looked angry and was about to say something, when Tess asked, ‘Does Lillian still live by the rose gardens?’

Auntie Becca was still looking at Edie when she replied, ‘I don’t think so. I was driving past there not so long back and another family came out of the house.’

‘So you don’t know where she is?’

‘Where who is?’

Mum had returned without them noticing.

‘Nothing,’ Tess said.

‘Oh, they were asking me about your neighbour, that awful Harlith woman or Vickers or whatever she is these days.’

Mum’s forehead contracted.

‘I told you not to interfere, girls.’

Neither Edie nor Tess looked up.

‘So she’s upped sticks, has she, Val Vickers?’ Auntie Becca said.

Mum didn’t reply.

‘I heard she wanted children,’ Auntie Becca said. ‘Maybe he doesn’t. Maybe he can’t afford it.’

‘I really don’t know, Becca. It’s all I can do to keep these two from sticking their noses in.’

She picked up her coat.

‘It’s time we were off.’

‘Not before Ray and Vince get back,’ Auntie Becca said. ‘Ray wants to see you and he’s giving you a lift.’

‘I’ve got a headache,’ Mum said. ‘We’ll get the bus.’

‘But the girls can stay.’

‘No, they can’t.’

Tess was already on her feet and Edie took one look at Mum before getting up. Usually she would have argued, but she remembered Mum’s tears from the week before.

‘Ray will be disappointed,’ Auntie Becca said.

‘I’m sure he’ll get over it,’ Mum said.

Auntie Becca frowned. Mum grabbed the girls’ arms and pulled them towards the door. Pepe, who had barked loudly when they arrived, now didn’t want them to leave. He crouched in front of them, arched his back and growled.

Mum looked at Auntie Becca.

‘He’s harmless, Gina. Just ignore him.’

Edie hung slightly behind Mum. Pepe wasn’t a large dog but his teeth looked big and sharp. Mum walked forwards. Pepe shuffled in front of her, blocking her path and still growling. Eventually, Auntie Becca got up.

‘Pepe, Peps,’ she called.

The dog ignored her. She walked over, grabbed its collar and pulled him back. Edie inched past him with Mum and Tess.

‘Bye, Becca,’ Mum said.

The dog was still pulling on the collar and growling as they left.

*

Edie didn’t dare complain about the cold wind and standing at the bus stop for twenty minutes. It took an hour and two changes to get home. Mum didn’t say a word during the whole trip.

‘Go to your room,’ Mum said when they got through the front door.

‘We only wanted to know if Valentina is at her sister’s,’ Tess said.

‘I’m disappointed in both of you.’

Edie shot Tess a warning look.

‘We didn’t stick our noses in,’ Tess said. ‘Auntie Becca started talking about her. Did you know she used to have loads of money and Mr Vickers gambled it away?’

‘That’s pure gossip.’

Mum’s face was getting angrier. Why wouldn’t Tess shut up?

‘But what if she’s not at her sister’s? He could have done something to her.’

‘Enough, Tess.’

‘He might have killed her. Her body could be in the freezer or under the floorboards. John Christie used to—’

‘That’s enough!’ Mum rarely shouted and Tess looked up as if from a trance.

‘If I find you’ve been snooping around…’ Mum said.

‘We haven’t,’ Edie said.

‘I’m ashamed of you. After I told you to leave that man alone. He’s going through enough.’

‘Mum. He’s… he’s…’

Mum was glaring at Tess, daring her to say the words. Tess closed her mouth.

‘Mr Vickers is a very unhappy man,’ Mum said. ‘And he can do without two silly little girls tormenting him. And if I find out there’s been any more snooping you’ll be grounded till Christmas.’

This time Tess stayed silent.

‘Now go to your room. I don’t want to see either of you right now.’

Edie and Tess slunk off.

‘You shouldn’t have said all that,’ Edie said when they were upstairs.

‘She has to know,’ Tess said.

‘I think Mum does know.’

‘Knows what?’

‘What happened to Valentina.’

‘Then why won’t she tell us?’

‘I’m not sure.’

‘You’re not making any sense, Edie. If she knew where she was she’d tell us and she wouldn’t be so upset.’

It made no sense to Edie, either. But she was sure she was right, that Mum did know something. And despite her promise, she was desperate to find out why.

Edie read her book, the sixth in a series. She’d got bored after the third but wanted to find out the ending. Tess was lying on her bed fidgeting and looking across at her. Edie carried on with her book.

‘Edie?’ Tess said after a long bout of rustling.

‘I’m reading.’

‘But, Edie.’

‘Shut up, Tess.’